


Cold Call

by scy



Category: Lucifer (Comic), Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-01
Updated: 2010-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-05 14:20:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scy/pseuds/scy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bargains come in forms both blatant and subtle. All must be recognized.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold Call

**Author's Note:**

> I think by this point Barb should just have a supply of carrots for the bunnies she gives me. The original concept for this came after the season finale when I noted that I had lots of material for future interactions between the two 'verses. Then she got a bunny with *intent to plot* and I realized I was writing it. See footnotes for original bunny.

_Heaven is believing what your eyes don't see - O.M.D._

 

The world didn't float untethered in the cosmos. Laws set down by power that had put the universe in motion governed its path. Even that force found obstacles, although hit absorbed most of them without pausing, bringing rogue elements back into line easily. But there was one thing it couldn't take back without inciting banked rebellion. Pressed up against one creation was an absolute blank that crackled and rolled in and out, touching but not a part of anything else. Walking into that space would change most and frighten even more, but there were those who were beyond that, and one waited on the boundary until her presence couldn't be ignored. She would speak her piece and make reasonable arguments, then it would be up to the force culminating beyond the horizon to move with determined judgment.

"Turning up that noise isn't an answer, Dean."

"What?" Dean said, able to hear Sam but acting otherwise.

"I just want to know how long we're going to go without even acknowledging that we have to deal with this," Sam said.

"I've told you, Sam, I can't."

"There's a way out of everything," Sam said.

"Again, with the political babble, I think you've got some suppressed ambition there," Dean said.

"Yeah, to have you use logic and be on the same page as me about this pact you made," Sam said.

"It's not that I don't know what you're doing, I just can't do anything to screw the demon over."

Sam had been trying to get the specifics of the encounter with the demon from his brother for weeks, and Dean had proved reticent past his normal limits.

"This has to do with the terms it set," Sam said. There was a boundary to Dean's reasons for not trying to save himself, and Sam was afraid that he knew the one that was holding his brother back. He looked down, breathing evenly. "Alright, did it say how far that not interfering went?"

"I can't try to get out of it, Sam, that was pretty clear."

"But I can," Sam said.

"Just don't ask me to do anything that might mess this up." Don't make me put you in danger. Dean had done this thing, put himself in the hands of a demon because he couldn't let Sam die and not try to save him. For Dean, that equated to offering himself up as a trade for his family with such wholeheartedness that Sam staggered back from.

"Okay, I won't." He'd keep looking on his own; the sites and sources he'd tapped when Dean's heart had been failing were still on his computer, labeled as something innocuous so they wouldn't attract Dean's attention, and Sam began adding to that research again.

"Do you think the demon's going to have a problem with us hunting down its buddies?" Sam asked, subject changed both of their positions clear to the other.

"Demons don't seem to be interested in what their buddies are doing except as revenge or when they want a way to get ahead. This one has its little trading posts set up, and probably doesn't care about the other bastards, unless they try and poach on its turf." Dean stopped talking again and Sam couldn't tell if he was tired of moving his mouth or he'd begun to consider what his lot would be in Hell, could be,

Sam told himself, he wasn't going to let anything take his brother out of the world. Whatever Dean thought would happen, he wasn't willing to discuss it. His focus was on the demons, how they'd scattered, what they were trying to do, and what was the best way to find them.

He began with a very weak imitation of Ash's search engine. Sam was good at many things, but he didn't have the technical expertise the other man had boasted of and proved he had. What Sam could do was set a search running with a few key words and any correlating news items would come up as they appeared. The mapping and graphing of patterns was then up to him. It gave him something to do with his time when he was sitting in the passenger seat or at in a diner with Dean, better than staring at his brother helplessly and wanting to hide him from the demon and yell at him for doing such a thing.

Dean was being himself, no more obnoxious and confident than usual, but knowing that he had traded his soul away didn't appear to have had any real effect on him. Sam hadn't asked him if he felt any different yet, he was going to have to soon, but at present it just felt like another invasion of privacy when there was little left. He put it off and kept occupied with work, both to save Dean and the kind that kept them moving and busy.

"Huh, listen to this," Sam said.

Dean leaned back in his seat, twisting a straw wrapper into half-hitch knots, but listening.

"A group of kids, on their Grad Night trip stumbled across what they claim is some kind of sacrificial ground."

"What's 'Grad Night'?" Dean asked.

"It's a party that high school kids go on right before they graduate."

"Okay, and at one of these parties, they might have gotten into a chemical celebration and had a bad trip."

"They were a little drunk, Dean, not drugged."

"Have they got any proof?"

"Apart from a pile of animal bones, there wasn't anything to suggest that anyone had been doing anything sinister." Sam forestalled Dean with a raised hand. "Not until the police began a tentative excavation of the area and found some much older bones, these human."

"So there were animal bones on top of the human ones?"

"Yeah, old buried deeper and the newest near the surface," Sam said.

"Sounds like a ritual, one that has to be renewed every so often," Dean said. He tossed the knotted paper on the table. "Where did you read this?"

"In FOAFtale News," Sam said.

"In what?"

"FOAF, stands for 'friend of a friend," Sam explained.

"And what's that mean, without acronyms?"

"It's a reference to the supposed source of something that's happened. The International Society for Contemporary Legend Research actually has a newsletter for this kind of stuff."

"I'm betting you're a major subscriber," Dean said.

"It pulls up our kind of material," Sam said, not going to defend his search guidelines to his brother when they were getting results.

"And were there any reports of bears in the area that might have left the bones?"

"Nothing like that, although there are a couple references to the history of the area as well as this not being an isolated incident." Sam minimized the screen and pulled up another one that he'd been reviewing. "Here's another one in Utah, more bones found by hikers, same thing, old burial ground reseeded with the bones of animals within the last month." He kept looking. "And in Georgia, someone was renovating their grandparents' house and they found a whole cemetery in the backyard."

"Something is making itself little caches," Dean said. "Blood magic's powerful stuff, so I'd say this was probably the work of a demon."

One of the ones that had escaped through the Hell's Gate, they both thought, and Sam printed out a map and began plotting out where the animals had been killed and found the line that was working its way across the country.

The demon they found was practically wrapped and tagged for them; it had been lingering around the body of the deer it had torn into, and it must have been surprised mid-kill and decided to move on to larger prey. There were dead pets buried in the backyard, but the first human sacrifice hadn't yet felt the knife.

When they entered, they discovered a boy quivering in the comer. Sam guessed that the demon had gotten to him. He looked like a jock, and had maybe had considered himself tough before this, but he'd seen or heard something that scared him voiceless and so he wasn't standing up to anyone now.

Sam thought Dean would stand his ground, and his brother had; even summoned demons by himself, knowing how dangerous it was without protection or backup. But Dean had known what he was doing and the kid staggering outside under Sam's guidance had clearly thought he was just goofing around in some old woods, not drawing the attention of evil forces.

As Sam hustled the kid out, he ordered him to call the police and tell them what had almost happened. Too scared to ask if Sam was sure, the boy, still in high school, agreed, nakedly relieved that someone else was giving directions and would take care of the mess.

Dean hadn't looked at the victim, and he'd gone into the house as if he knew what would be there, as if nothing could touch him as long as he was prepared, or considering being so.

Sam needed to remind his brother that even if there was an agreement in place that limited where he was going when he died, that was no reason to test whether he was protected from harm in the meantime.

The demon hissed and coiled like a snake preparing to strike, but it fell back when Sam began reciting the Lord's Prayer and a handful of salt passed through it. The holy water Dean tossed brought the cloud down near the floor, low-lying smoke that moved in ways that were against this plane's natural laws.

"Almost," Dean said.

The demon hovered over the body of the deer, sliding into the empty shell and animating it like a drunk puppeteer, trying to confused them into backing off. It didn't seem to know what to do with humans who tried to give back some of the harm that had been dealt to them, and it was trapped.

It seemed the demon was sure Sam and Dean would run, but when it failed to drive them off, it tried to leap from the deer's body to one of them and found itself turned away. It landed back in its host and was bound with symbols drawn around it and the words that they spoke over its struggles.

"Amen," Sam said, the conclusion of the prayer sealing the demon to the flesh it occupied.

"Fire burns clean," Dean sad, his own truth and doused the body in gasoline and set a match to it. He watched it burn for a few seconds.

Outside on the steps, Sam leaned back through the doorway. "Dean, the cops and everybody else are going to be here soon."

"You get a tip?" Dean asked, frowning at the fire, which didn't spread beyond the body of the deer, burning only what had been touched by the demon and going no further. Soon it would curl in on itself and be extinguished.

"I heard a siren," Sam said. "Do you think it's gone, for good?"

"We doused it with holy water and you saw the demon vanish, same as me. There are other places for demons to be, more people to feed on." Dean glanced around the room a last time and then they headed out the back door, driving away on a back road as the sirens approached.

"Well?" Sam asked when Dean turned on the radio but didn't relate what clues he might have found.

"It didn't find what it was looking for."

"You're sure," Sam said.

"Sure, I'm positive," Dean said, smiling at the joke that could follow if they let it.

"How do you know that?"

"The demon got called up, did some fast talking, a few mind tricks, but the animals and that kid weren't what it wanted so it threw a fit and we nabbed it before it could head out."

"Okay." That left them looking for other demons who were doing the same things, and it appeared that to do that, they had to track literal smoke, and Sam didn't see anything about aggressive pollution online when he reviewed headlines.

"Another one will show up again soon," Dean said.

"If not, there's a lot of other things to hunt down," Sam said.

"More are going to try this stunt," Dean said firmly. "The thing had an agenda."

"Like the yellow-eyed demon?" Sam inquired. They didn't need another being with a vendetta against them, and not knowing if these escaped demons were more powerful than the first one they'd faced worried Sam. This one had been certain in its abilities and underestimated humans, but there were many more, and not all of them would be so far removed from understanding the danger that the Winchesters posed.

"Who knows, but they're not all picky about their rides, we've seen that," Dean said.

"Alright." Sam turned back to running down reports of unnatural deaths and accidents, human and animal or anything really, that would give them a lead. He thought again about Ash and his magnificently over the top computer. Right now his assistance would have been very welcome, and Sam gave him a moment's thought.

There were a few mentions of brutal attacks, wild animals that left no tracks, houses broken into, nothing stolen but strange patterns left burned into the walls, but it wasn't easy to sort through what were matches for his search and the randomness that wasn't connected to demons at all.

Dean kept the car to the speed limit and off as many main highways as he could. They were still wanted, and even closing a doorway to Hell wasn't going to sign their 'get out of jail' cards.

"I can't make out which of these," Sam waved a hand at the listing of news stories, "is a demon's work and which are just the bad things people do to each other."

"You'll put it together," Dean said without looking up to take in Sam's frustration.

"It's not like doing a broad search, Dean, we're trying to find specific incidents, and right now I can't see straight enough to tell you what date's on this paper."

"Told you not to try and read without a light," Dean said and gestured for Sam to hand the stack of news clippings over to his bed. "You need to take a break, loosen up, I'll find us a job."

Sam felt like he was whining, but he asked, "Demons?"

"Who knows, there's a lot of things out there, Sammy, we'll see what's been misbehaving the most." Dean smiled, and tugged the bedspread out from under Sam and threw it at his chest. "Sleep."

"Alright." Sam had a soft pillow behind him and as he fell backwards, he pulled the bedspread up higher and closed his eyes. If he dreamed of insignificant things, he resolved not to remember.

When he woke up, Dean wasn't in the room, but he'd left a napkin on Sam's bed. In Dean's often illegible scrawl it told Sam that his brother would be back soon and he might even have coffee for both of them. Sam scooted himself into a lean against the headboard and grabbed his laptop off the bedside table. He flipped it on and checked the results of his personal search.

There were experts in every field and Sam set himself to finding them. He widened his search to include demonology, hostage negotiation, and the occult in general, all of that on top of anthropology, theology, and consulting any folklorist who didn't hang up on him when he began suggesting pointed hypothetical scenarios. A few of them got the 'writing a book-paper-thesis' explanation, and others were simply interviewed for as long as they would tolerate.

Luckily he didn't have to meet many of them; in any circle, people talked, and he didn't want it getting around that anyone was seriously researching demonic bargains. Any further connections between him and demons and Gordon Walker would likely have help in tracking him down.

Sam knew that he was past dealing gently and patiently with anyone who thought they were helping and and were only going to be another roadblock. So he did what he could to keep his explanations off the radar of other hunters. Sometimes he thought he was doing that for reasons other than self-preservation. Nobody else had fought such things as he and Dean; their resolve wasn't a certainty, and Sam wouldn't chance anyone taking chances that weren't possibilities for success.

The search hadn't found any revelations, but he'd gotten several emails from a professor of culture studies, and Sam read it through and took down several of the links to other resources.

"Checking out porn again?" Dean asked when he came back.

Sam hadn't looked up and knew that if he weren't going to be harassed about his internet usage, it would be his apparent obliviousness, so he let Dean have that one.

"Did you find us a job?"

"You doubt me?"

"Your hands are black," Sam said. "Either you were working on the car because you didn't find anything, or you were up all night trying to find something."

"I was, and I did." Dean said. He handed Sam a cup of coffee.

"What is it?"

"Something that may make you go to church on Sundays."

"Come again?"

"Not only are there a slew of animal deaths across the country, which have no real pattern, by the way, it looks like the demons have been gorging themselves on the first thing they find. I can't see that they're making any clear plans yet, but I did find a guy who swears that he's been seeing 'beings not of this world.' "

"Dean, I already believe in God, why would this make me convert, and to what?"

"I don't know, but this guy swears that not only has he seen these 'apparitions,' but that there's a war going on between two factions and the whole world is going to suffer for it."

"You sound like a book critic," Sam said.

"Really? Must be all the sleep I'm not getting."

"I'll drive for awhile. The man, he's not getting psychological evaluation because he's also been told to go after 'bad people,' I take it?"

"No, the way he describes it is like he's seeing stuff that's happening around us all the time but that people can't normally see," Dean said.

"Like he's seeing a different spectrum of the world," Sam said.

"The sort of stuff we see?" Sam asked, not sure if Dean meant that or, if he was already convinced that this guy was psychic, someone who didn't have demon blood, but had something that let him see more than most, and whether that made him like the Winchesters or not. Their own talents didn't by tradition come with such revelations, but then again, Dean hadn't shown any hesitation when they found that one demon quickly though, and now Sam watched as Dean spread newspapers out and his fingers skated over print.

For years it had been a skill they honed; looking at a bunch of words and separating out what didn't belong. Now Sam stared at pages and couldn't force himself to see connections, he just saw information. Instead of there and north, it was 'five questioned in cult ritual incident,' and 'no answers as the investigation continues.' It felt like he was trying to look at the world through a layer of fuzziness and he couldn't make out what he should be seeing. If he needed an eye exam and he was found wanting, he didn't think they made a prescription for this condition.

What he did see was worrying; Dean was hunting with the intent to do as much damage in as little time as possible. If the monsters knew he was coming, he smiled and made it a full-out pursuit; with no apparent doubt about whether he would be the one setting fire to what was left. He watched the fire that curled close to the stub of the match before he tossed it on the pyre, like he was waiting for it to reach out for him.

Sam had thought it was eerie before; the way Dean would stare down at an open grave, holding a flickering match like he was hearing last words and then the flip of the match into the grave was judgment. It could be that Dean was fixating on fire because he was thinking about the bargain he'd made, and even if he claimed that he was alright, actually was scared that he'd be following through on his end.

He wasn't going to let that happen; even if his first avenues of research were unhelpful, he had dug in his heels and wouldn't even discuss the possibility of Dean not being around after next spring. Their family had been torn apart by one demon, and that was more than Sam would allow again.

For years he'd been sheltered and protected, and even after he told Dean that it wasn't necessary, his brother still held back when he thought it was best for Sam. Him standing at Dean's shoulder was simple fact, that was his place, but he still had to demonstrate that making hard decisions wasn't a burden Dean alone should bear on his own. What they would do for one another was an absolute in their own minds, but Sam knew they had to see a way for it to be faith shared, same as their purpose.

Each time they passed through a crossroads, Sam watched his brother for an indication that he felt something trying to thread him through the gap that two intersecting paths made into other parts of the universe. There wasn't even a twitch of expression on Dean's face the first time they went through an intersection, and Sam was relived, noting it, and kept watching.

Dean saw him staring, but didn't bring it up immediately; Sam was collecting data, observing Dean like he'd been doing for years. Now it just happened to be so he could save his brother's soul.

On the trail of the specters purported to be angels; they'd caught two more demons in Devils Traps, and Dean had found the connections both times, Sam began to think about what that meant.

Partly, it was Dean being scarily good at identifying weird events. Dad used to spread out newspapers for them and leave them to 'find the monster' with only a couple clues. As they got older, it was less a scavenger hunt and more a race where mistakes would get someone killed.

Dean did well with putting things together, it was art of why he was so good at making things work, like an EMF meter of his own and could fix his car with spit and a wrench.

Sam knew books and what the best ways to connect facts until he had some monsters identified they could apply force to. Now he was researching the demons, looking for any advantage in such situations, as if it happened often that doorways to hell were left ajar. Sam guessed that Colt had constructed the interwoven railroad tracks because he'd witnessed an uncommon event; sound reasoning for making a unique gun. Whatever the connection was, Sam knew he'd find it, meanwhile they'd continue hunting on the road to their next job.

Finding three demons in less than a month was oddly fortuitous, and that bit of luck didn't make Sam rest any easier. Dreams trembled on the edges of his mind, phantom images that never formed, his will keeping them back, pain a substitute for seeing what he couldn't solve.

"You said that demons don't care about their neighbors, could one be giving the escapees up?" Sam asked.

"So that they can get the points they need or whatever?" Dean suggested.

"It's a possibility, right?"

"But if one of the brimstone crew is handing us demons, then they've got another thing going on that they don't want us getting into," Dean said, and went on, "just because they're trying to be helpful now doesn't mean that later we're going to get ripped into."

"Exactly," Sam said.

"As long as we're getting tips and they're reliable, we can look into them, but we keep our guard up. None of this is coming free, that's not the way these things work."

"We could ignore them," Sam said.

"And let the demons do more damage, let other hunters take the credit?"

"It's not a contest, Dean, you don't have a scorecard that we're marking off your kills on."

"Well, we should, we'd be all the way to free stuff by now," Dean said.

Dean's interest in taking credit for being the best hunter out there was interesting to Sam and he would probably think back on it, but for the moment, he was going to give him a hard time for it.

"You sound like one of those jocks that you hated in high school," Sam said.

"I do not."

"What's next, comparing your methods to everyone else and figuring out who's the most qualified?"

"I don't need to, I bet you've done a spread sheet or something, haven't you?"

Sam might have considered how they seemed to get more of the difficult jobs than the rest of the hunting community and that could have led to a little comparative analysis, but he wasn't going to show any of that to Dean.

"No I didn't," Sam argued.

"You did so, and look who's obsessing?"

"I just like to know what we've faced," Sam said.

"We write what we've learned in Dad's journal," Dean said. "It's all in there, what we've beaten, stuff we haven't seen but other hunters have heard of, why do you need to lay it all out?"

"Why do you have to check the guns twice, or spend hours sharpening your knives?" Sam asked. "It's about knowing what you can depend on." For Sam, his mind had been his best defense, again their father's arguments, teachers who wanted him to tell them what was wrong when he couldn't, and the insanity that they faced every day. For Dean, a good night's sleep was tied to having everything he needed within reach, weapons, and brother.

Now that they had a direction, some business to take care of that fit within their larger goal, Dean was ready to handle the tangible and let Sam pull together their guesswork until they had enough information to make a plan.

"Where's this guy staying?" Sam asked.

"He's opted not to make the tour of talk shows and spread his wisdom, but he's been accepting interviews." Dean dropped onto Sam's bed, took the laptop and retrieved a link out of the internet browser's history.

Sam stared at the picture and article. "He seems very upbeat," he said. The man in the picture was standing in front of a small house, smiling for the camera, shoulders turned like he was about to invite them inside.

"On non-prescription meds," Dean said.

"Or he could be enjoying his few minutes of attention," Sam said.

"Unnaturally cheerful," was Dean's pronouncement, and he wouldn't hear otherwise.

"Fine, you know how you want to go in?" Meaning, had Dean already decided what their cover would be.

"Basic story research," Dean said,

Sam hauled his bag onto the bed to see if he had any clean shirts; even small town reporters looked professional and if they wanted full disclosure they'd be posing as representatives from a bigger publisher and would have to meet expectations.

"No flannel," Sam said.

"Aw," Dean whined, but when Sam held up a white shirt and a tie, Dean sighed and

went to search his own bag for the same.

Darren Rhodes was eager to welcome two reporters from Scientific Inquiry into his home. He was so very welcoming that Sam felt sorry that the man wouldn't ever get to read an article about the debate they had over proof of what Rhodes claimed to see, and the man's belief that he wasn't crazy, just had a special perspective.

"But how do you know you're seeing angels?" Sam asked. "People who've suffered loss or trauma can manifest symptoms that include hallucinations."

"I haven't been in an accident, and nobody I know has died recently. I've been examined by a psychologist and had an MRI, there's nothing wrong with me."

"Admittedly, it's rather odd to suddenly being seeing these apparitions," Sam said.

"I may not have seen them until a month ago, but that doesn't mean that they haven't been around," Rhodes said.

Dean had kept himself out of the discussion. He wandered the living room, peered at family photos, and the few landscape prints hanging that were muted and didn't stand out. Like Darren Rhodes before he got the chance to open his eyes wide and tell people about it.

When Dean excused himself, Sam knew that he had the EMF meter and was doing a check of the house. It hadn't gone off when Rhodes let them inside, and he didn't think it would pick up anything now, but Dean would make sure, and anyway, he didn't want to argue with Rhodes.

Sam got as much as he wanted from Rhodes about the nature of the figures he'd been seeing and what they'd been doing and then he closed his notebook, shook the man's hand, and promised to let him know if their editor was pleased with the story proposal. He met Dean on the steps and they were silent until they got in the car.

"That was a waste of time," Dean said, shaking the EMF meter slightly as if saying that he'd known it wouldn't pick up any readings.

"The guy is seeing something," Sam insisted.

"So do people who don't take their meds on time, Sam."

"He can't be a psychic?"

"Most of them don't go running to Weird News Weekly; they don't want to get bounced into a hospital or have their picture on the news-stand," Dean said.

"And after meeting him, that's what you think is going on here?"

"He's not right about this," Dean said, trying to tell Sam what he felt without using words that were out of his vocabulary. He made things simple, and his feelings about this 'witness' weren't like that.

"For centuries, prophets and sages have claimed that they were contacted by beings from another level of existence," Sam reminded.

"A lot of those guys were holed up in caves drinking wine laced with 'shrooms, Sam. That's not the way to get in touch with the divine."

"How do you know, have you tried?"

"I don't need to take drugs to see angels, I see enough crazy stuff when I''m sober."

Dean hadn't answered Sam's question or given any denial of attempted vision quests or séances with anyone and so it wasn't clear whether he was saying he'd never done such things, or the they weren't events he thought counted in understanding this job.

Sam tried to bring him back around to the subject. "The last time we dealt with a

being like this, you said you believed in higher powers."

"That time, those deaths were the work of the spirit of that priest, Father Gregory, and he wasn't an angel, he was just using people's faith to get them to clean up his neighborhood from beyond the grave. He was a ghostly vigilante, Sam, and I didn't say that I believed in angels."

"Implied. When it turned out that Gregory compelled those people to kill, you said that you'd seen something that you couldn't dismiss, maybe God's will, and now, when we might be on the verge of getting more proof of such things, you don't want to go any further," Sam said.

"Are we private investigators now?" Dean asked.

"In a way."

"Nobody pays us to poke around when it doesn't seem like we need to," Dean said.

"Well, on this one, I say we need to," Sam kept his voice firm.

"Why?"

Because if there are angels and they're in the world, then they might oppose the demons, they could have shown up because of them, and they might help us, Sam didn't say. "Don't you want to know, really, without a doubt?" he asked.

"I know what I need to, Sam. There's a hell, and then there's wherever Mom is. It's enough," Dean said.

"Not for me, I have to find out, Dean."

"And then what? If Rhodes really is seeing angels, and they're not getting ready to wind him up to cleanse the town, what are you going to tell them they should do? Fix things, make sure everyone is happy and rich?"

"Nothing that big," Sam said, head down as he skimmed another book. Dean knew what he was thinking of, even if he wasn't meeting his eyes.

"If they haven't gotten in between demons and us before, why would they start now?" Dean asked.

"The balance has shifted, there are a whole bunch of demons loose right now," Sam said.

"Right, and it's partly our fault, because we didn't stop the demon from propping a door to Hell open," Dean said.

"You think they would hold that against us? We're the ones tracking them down and banishing them."

"Yeah, we're great at cleaning up our mistakes, Sam, that'll be a great conversation-opener. 'Sorry about the mess, would you mind doing us a favor?' "

"It could work."

"That's if this 'angel' isn't a fraud, isn't too tied up in its own power trip to care, and doesn't try and smack us around for asking," Dean pointed out.

"We have to try, Dean. At least be sure that this guy isn't going to get stuck looking at the world in a way that's going to drive him crazy."

"You said that he's not talking to them."

"That could be worse, if they were giving him directions or acknowledging him then he might know for sure that he wasn't nuts."

"Instead you're convinced that his vision isn't the problem, he's just tuned in to the celestial channel for some reason," Dean said.

"And that's something you can't accept?"

"Angels are supposedly instruments of divine vengeance. They get sent to do things that nobody wants to think a kindly god could. They deliver messages, plagues, they're not nice as a rule," Dean said.

"Say that Rhodes is seeing angels as they go about their business on Earth," Sam said. "For argument's sake, they may not be doing things that we would interpret as completely good, but it's what they've been sent to do, why are you so worried about this guy's sanity?"

"What happens when the spirits, or whatever, notice him trying to look over their shoulders?" Dean asked. "I wouldn't bet on them being thrilled that he's checking out their work."

"That's a good point," Sam said.

"I thought so."

"You think Rhodes is in danger?"

"Could be. Mortals aren't supposed to meddle in the business of creatures who think they're gods, what always happens when one side gets too involved with the other?" Dean asked.

"Something bad happens," Sam said.

"Usually to some innocent bystander who offended a Trickster, or worse. Just by speaking out he's attracting attention. I don't care if he's seeing ghosts or the auras of his mailman, he's going to be noticed by more than reporters," Dean said.

"Can we stop it?"

Dean didn't answer.

"Are you suggesting that we might not be meant to?" Sam asked.

"Is he doing what he has to, or is it the will of these angels for him to be dangling out there until he's noticed?" Dean hadn't turned his head away from the road as he drove, but Sam was staring at him with such frank disbelief that he had to feel it.

"Wait, I've got an idea that's even wilder," Sam said heatedly. "It could be that Rhodes has been bait from the start, but not because he's anybody special, but so that these things could attract hunters."

"Like us," Dean said.

"Who would be able to fight them? Not Rhodes, and not anyone who doesn't believe enough to know they need to be ready to defend themselves. Get rid of the hunters and the rest of the population is vulnerable," Sam said.

"Right."

"We've got to know exactly what we're dealing with," Sam said.

"Like I said."

"It still could be angels." Sam wanted it to be, for once, a small piece of good working in the world.

"Or it could be something that wants us to think it's an angel and is really going to screw everyone over the second our backs are turned," Dean said.

"Great," Sam said.

"That's what you get for thinking this was going to be easy," Dean said.

"Yeah, well, you thought Rhodes was just crazy, now it turns out he's probably telling the truth," Sam said, not going to let Dean's jibe go unanswered.

"More work for us."

"Where do you want to set up?"

"Let's get something to eat and then we'll start looking," Dean said, peace offered if Sam wanted it.

"I'm sure there's a fast food place close by," Sam said, accepting.

"They might have some of that rabbit food you like," Dean said.

"Salad, Dean, people call them salads these days."

"That's not going to make them a full meal, Sam, no matter how much cheese and

dressing you pour on top, it's still a plate of lettuce."

"You should try eating something green once in awhile that actually counts as a vegetable," Sam said. "It would be good for you."

"All the more reason to avoid it."

"We'll see," Sam said, and resolved to stick an apple in Dean's mouth if his brother acted like an idiot in public.

"None of the town's records show that anyone else has had psychic gifts show up recently, and I don't see any strange deaths connected with the area," Sam said.

"Nothing in its history either?" Dean asked.

"Aside from a mention of some disputes over property lines and a couple domestic disputes that were settled in court, nobody has been doing anything that would make this place interesting to demons," Sam said.

"So they could have chosen Darren Rhodes because he was the first person they could influence. Wanting to be special is a good way to get noticed by a demon."

Reluctantly, Sam agreed. "Yeah."

"You find anything about what he's been seeing?"

"I figure it's a tearing of the barrier between this world and someplace else. Whether he's seeing demons or angels, Rhodes is getting a glimpse of stuff that shouldn't be visible to people and that's going to take a toll on him," Sam said.

"He seems pretty happy with the arrangement," Dean said.

"But it's likely only a matter of time before they start showing him the lower depths too."

"I'd bet he gets held up in the Vestibule for a bit," Dean said. "But from there it's a quick tumble to drown in the Acheron and then down to Purgatory."

"Don't be so flippant, Dean, this is a man's soul we're talking about," Sam said.

"I'm not, Sam, but it's pretty obvious that unless we can find out what's been doing this to him, he's going to be headed downstairs just for seeing too much."

"We need to talk to him again," Sam said.

"You go," Dean said. "I'm going to keep looking to see what I can find about visitations."

"Sure," Sam said. He wasn't surprised that Dean didn't want to talk to Darren Rhodes again; whether he was feeling any connection between his situation or not, he had a hard time keeping his opinions to himself normally, this time would be even harder.

Darren Rhodes only answered his doorbell when Sam let it ring twelve times, and when he did, Sam could tell that all the glory of getting a sneak peek into another realm had worn off.

"Mr. Rhodes, are you alright?"

"Oh, you're one of the reporters, from that science magazine." Darren Rhodes' face was drawn and his hand quivered on the doorknob as he stood in the entryway, not showing any of the glad hospitality that had poured off him in their previous meeting.

"Sir, I just had a couple more questions to wrap up the pitch, my editor, he's a real pain about getting the gory details."

Rhodes flinched at the word 'gory,' and Sam noticed.

"You got a good story already, what makes you think there's more?"

"I'm good at what I do, sir, and going by how you look, I'd say that there's something you've held back. Now, can I come in?"

"If you didn't think I was crazy before, you will now," Rhodes warned, and Sam smiled reassuringly.

"I promise I won't."

"Okay, come in." Rhodes stepped back and let Sam pass into the house.

"He's seeing flames," Sam announced as he came into their motel room.

"What?"

"Flames, shapes burning, and a three faced creature," Sam said.

"Do we even have any idea what it means?" Dean asked, not seeing the significance immediately, the way Sam had.

"The figure with three faces, I just know of one thing that it could be. Dis, or Satan. The faces are Judas, Cassius and Brutus, all of them traitors to their masters," Sam said.

"How does that guy fit into this?" Dean asked.

"I don't think any of this is about him," Sam thought aloud. "I think it's a message, for us."

Dean stared at him, and Sam expanded on his theory.

"For a while, a few centuries, Italian poets made a journey to Hell part of their work. Dante's Inferno, Orlando Furioso, and Jerusalem Delivered were a couple of them. Some of them began to blend elements of the fey with Hell, and it was because the latter was such a terrible place, and now it isn't."

"That's a real 'duh,' Sam, but what do you mean, and should I worry that you're up on the history of Hell?" Dean asked.

"What I'm saying is that for a lot of reasons, Hell has been watered down through the years. Different things scare people now, and we've seen it, barely anyone thinks that ghosts are real, demons get the same treatment. So, the demons could be trying to bring it back."

"Put things the way they used to be? Make people afraid of burning when they sin?"

"Yeah," Sam said.

"And one guy who has absolutely nothing going on is going to help them do that?"

"I said it before, get rid of anyone who knows what to do when a poltergeist takes over a house or a wendigo settles in a national park and there's an opening for demons and the like to take over."

"Why give him, and us a preview, won't that ruin their plans?"

"He's expendable to them. Like a telescope, he's getting one view of what they want, we know to look for the bigger picture," Sam said.

"Did he say anything else, something that would tell us maybe what type of demon is involved, how strong it is?"

"He was pretty freaked, Dean. A lot of it didn't make sense. I taped all of our conversations, both times, and he rambled on about skeletons and snakes sitting down at a table together."

Dean shook his head. "Well, that one's easy to decipher. Death and the Devil doing lunch."

"That makes sense to you?"

"You're not the only one who knows a little about Hell, Sam. Used to be that Death and Satan were considered to be the same thing."

Sam nodded encouragingly. "To you that means, what?"

"That either Rhodes is having a psychotic break, which wouldn't be a big shock, or he's seeing what the demons want. Death and Hell on Earth." Dean sat back on the bed and groaned. "I'm hating this town more the longer we stay here."

"With good reason," Sam agreed.

"We need to set more traps for demons instead of the other way around," Dean said.

"Still can," Sam said.

"They'll be expecting it," Dean said.

"Has that ever stopped us from trying?"

"No, I just wanted to be difficult."

"Thank you for being consistent," Sam said.

"You're welcome."

Dean tilted his chair back "Is there a way to tap into what Rhodes is seeing?"

"You want to join the audience?"

"It could help us find out how these things are contacting him," Dean said.

"Or we could get pulled in too," Sam said.

"There has to be a safer way."

"Not always," Dean said.

"I'd like to keep looking just the same."

"How long do you think someone can stand to see what he's been staring at?"

"He's not used to knowing the world is the way we know it, he doesn't have any idea how to protect himself."

"If these demons want that, you've seen how they use people to get things done for them. They wouldn't have to posses him, only make listening to them the only way to get some relief," Dean said.

"You see that happening soon," Sam said.

"From what you said, I bet he's on the brink of a meltdown."

Sam sighed with frustration. "Can we stop it?"

"Eventually, monsters get hungry enough to come around and grab whatever scraps they can," Dean said.

"They'll come for Rhodes," Sam said, and had to ask, "are we sure it's a trap?"

"Demons don't have to have dreams of ruling the world, one little block could be enough," Dean said.

"Could be. The thing is, the yellow-eyed demon, its kids, and the others we've encountered have been focused on doing something bigger than ruining lives. No reason to think that this one isn't," Sam said.

Dean grimaced, and Sam spoke up before he objected again. "What I'm suggesting, and I don't think you're wrong, is that this demon could have escaped Hell, found a person it could use the way it wants and we happened to find it before it heard about us."

"Kind of funny if they're not looking to be noticed and we put them on everybody's radar," Dean said.

"Who's everybody?" Sam asked.

"Anything that pays attention." Dean sounded sure, and impatient for Sam to agree with his assessment of upcoming events. "We're talking in circles, Sam, which won't change what's happening."

"Fine, what do you want to do?" Sam asked.

While he kept his thoughts to himself for a few minutes, Dean walked the room, eyes moving, plans being formulated, judged, and the workable parts added to his next idea. When he turned to face Sam, he was smiling, and Sam could tell that he wasn't going to be completely behind the scheme, but that it was the one that had the greatest chance of working.

"We get Rhodes out of his house, somewhere in the open, minimal public exposure, see what comes around for him," Dean said.

"That's incredible, Dean, why didn't I come up with that?" Sam said.

"Don't know."

"It couldn't be because we're sitting out there, unprotected for anything to see and with the person they want right there," Sam said.

"We'll keep him in sight," Dean said. "Hang back, out of the way, but close enough that we can step in when we're needed."

Sam grumbled and raised other objections, but in absence of another plan, they went with the first one.

It was just approaching sunset when they reached the beach. Dean parked the car and made noises about working all day without stopping to eat, and then he wandered toward a concession stand, Darren following him, nervously looking around him as if he expected to see demons everywhere.

"Is this the time to be getting food?" Sam asked.

"If these demons want to make an impression they're going to stick to the classics, and they won't be around until the sun goes down," Dean said. "And meanwhile, I'm hungry."

Sam wasn't all that hungry, and so he got out, tossed his shirt in the back and stepped over the low-lying fence that was meant to separate the parking lot from the beach.

There were a few tourists still turning themselves with shifts of the sun, reddened skin distinguishing them from the regular beach patrons who wore hats and used sunscreen. They looked upwards and then at their watches, and began gathering their umbrellas and blankets, getting ready to leave.

Sam walked down the pier to where someone had left a bucket. Looking over the edge, he could see barnacles and starfish clinging to the pilings. The soft arms of anemones moved in the current and when he craned his neck, he saw several crabs running sideways under the pier.

He sat down, crossed his legs and looked down into the water counting each form of life he saw below. It felt intrusive, staring at the lives going on below, and Sam wondered if that was how demons viewed the world and humans, as subjects under their observation.

When he heard footsteps behind him, Sam didn't raise his head, but when he saw a strange pair of shoes in his peripheral vision, Sam's gaze lifted.

"For something constant to vary so thoroughly every night since the beginning of the world is an accomplishment worth acknowledgment," said the man standing next to him.

"What?" Sam asked. It could have been a sightseer who happened to stroll down the dock and pause for some conversation with a stranger, but the blond man was too well dressed, like someone out of an office that never answered to anyone.

"One sunset is like no other, in all the millennia this planet has seen it's never been shown the same sunset." The man glanced down at Sam. "Much as there have been many hunters, but not a pair like you and your brother."

"What do you want with Dean?" This guy could have been a hunter, but there was nothing covert about the menace Sam sensed and his clothing and manners weren't the rough necessities that men fell back on when they'd been on the road too long to remember what they'd been raised to. He wasn't pretending that he wasn't dangerous; if someone could pick up on the power that buzzed around him, then they were better off because they knew to run.

"Of all the souls to claim; your brother is not one who would settle quietly in Hell."

Sam knew the being next to him wasn't human, not with those words, but he didn't know how to classify him without more clues and he was good at drawing conclusions from a small quantity of information.

"He'd cause a lot of problems," Sam said, nervous, but still somehow relieved to hear it voiced and recognized that Dean wouldn't stay down when he was told to.

"The authorities on proper behavior will not be pleased with someone who isn't willing to follow their rules."

"And that's nobody you're close to?" Sam asked.

"I don't encourage intimacy, Samuel Winchester." Sam started at mention of his full name and the flinch was observed as the soft voice went on. "Those who pretend to have dominion in Hell are too ignorant to distinguish between damnation and incarceration, even though the two are the categories under which their charges fall."

"They're not in control?"

"Rule of hell is an illusion enforced by Heaven to satisfy the demands of the demonic and legions of souls who feel unworthy of ascending."

"You're saying that it's about mind over matter; if a person doesn't go to Heaven, they have nobody to blame but themselves," Sam said.

"Nothing compels them to choose."

"What about people who've made arrangements, exchanged themselves for a second chance at something?"

"Demons rely on promises more than they should, because they spend their time sifting through fine print until the results are favorable to them."

"Okay," Sam said.

"This demon who accepted the soul of Dean Winchester will not want anything else to know what it's done unless it's certain there's no way for your brother to renege. Infighting, politics, all of them thrive on mention of such bargains, and when the prize is a soul offered, it becomes perilous to be the one holding the marker."

"Why?"

"Even on Earth you're mistrusted by others who present themselves as compatriots."

"What do you know about that?" Sam asked.

"Do not think to insult my awareness of both subtle and obvious gambits made by humans. You are distrusted, even among the number of those who believe they are defending mortals from night's terrors."

No point in denying what this being already knew if it might give him something in return. "They think I've got demon blood in me and that I could snap and be the leader of an army of demons." It wasn't the wildest rumor Sam had heard lately, but it was the gist of other hunters' worst predictions.

"And what might you do in order to protect or free your only brother?"

"Whatever I have to," Sam said.

"That is a wider range than most would dare, Samuel. There is a reason why the demons of wary of you Winchesters."

"But Dean? Why worry that he's going to make trouble?" Even if Dean would do so just to watch everyone around him splutter indignantly.

"If he knows that you are fighting to save him and there is something that he can do to assist or protect you, the damage done will be immeasurable by recent standards."

"What standards are those?"

"There are rules that are broken all the time, and then there are the ones that shouldn't be, for any reason."

"Like the ones that say you should introduce yourself before you start talking about someone behind their back?" Dean asked, and Sam turned to see his brother standing a few feet away, hand on his hip, just a couple inches from the gun he was carrying.

"Keep your hand off your weapon, Dean Winchester, drawing it would mean confrontation and that is not a path that solves any of your present problems."

"Yeah?" Dean said. He wasn't intimidated, or convinced, and the man could tell, facing Dean and looking him in the eye.

"Defensiveness only calls attention to uncertainty."

"I don't remember us asking for a second opinion," Dean said.

"No, you've already forged a pact, and with terms set by someone else."

"I didn't have a lot to bargain with," Dean said, fingers moving further back.

"Or the demon who answered your summons wanted to be sure that it would see the agreement fulfilled."

"Seriously," Dean said, not trusting or believing, even if he listened.

"Had that demon refused your plea, another would have accepted it."

"Could I have gotten a better offer?" Dean put aggression aside, but it waited, ready.

"Knowing your reputation, any being with an expectation of success wouldn't have let you have any more time than the minimum."

He looked at Dean and added, "Not that the deal is in any way beneficial to your future."

"Sam's alive. That's what matters," Dean said.

"And if he doesn't find away to free you of your bond before the seasons come back around, he will be left with the knowledge that it was all done for him. I'm sure it will be a comfort; the absence of choice so often leads to peaceful acceptance." He sounded the last words like they were sharp and he'd been forced to speak them already.

"We're not talking about you," Dean reminded. "I'll be heading to your neighborhood soon enough, you can lecture then."

"I don't rule Hell, Dean Winchester, not anymore."

Sam scrambled to his feet and moved around to stand beside Dean. He shot his brother a look and Dean snarled silently.

"It's not easy to swallow; the devil not being in charge of things downstairs," Dean said.

"Whoever thinks to reign in Hell does so only at the bidding of Heaven," Lucifer said.

"That doesn't make sense."

"If there is a reward for good people, as I know you secretly hope, then its counterpart has to follow as the opposite. Such a balance is never left to an incomplete design."

"Basically, if there's a Hell, then Heaven exists, and God made them both."

"It's what my father intended." Lucifer smiled. "And like any parent he held a role for each of his children."

"You're blaming God for the fact that you started a bunch of shit and got tossed out of Heaven."

"Not at all. I had a part, and each action he foresaw was calculated into his plans."

"Still seems like you think your dad's to blame for stuff you've done."

Lucifer shook his head. "The point is the lack of freedom."

"Fine, so you didn't want to follow orders."

"A concept nearly unheard of in your upbringing," Lucifer said.

"Hey, don't start that," Dean warned.

"Would you rather we discussed less sensitive topics? The winding down of time you have left on Earth is of some importance I imagine."

As if Lucifer didn't know Dean would suffer a whole lot before he'd take any crap about the way he'd been brought up.

"And that's what you stopped in to chat about?" Dean asked.

"You find that unlikely?" Lucifer asked.

"What, you have so little to do that you like hanging around mortals?" Sam asked.

"Time is only restrictive when your ability to handle it is limited," Lucifer said.

"Got it, you're really powerful, no other bragging needed," Dean said.

"I have interests beyond posing as the opposition, although the failure of the current management to exercise actual control over Hell's residents does provide some

diversion."

"They screwed up," Dean said.

"To an amateur, yes, but the representatives of Heaven are held to more exacting standards. Damned is a better descriptor."

"Those guys were your friends once, right?"

"They thought they were, even a family where most seek favor and validation above all else," Lucifer said.

"Alright, so you're not happy with what's happened. Have you been helping us find the demons?" Sam asked.

"Not as you would understand it."

"Fine, have you left us clues or given some demons bad directions so that they'd run into us."

"What you've experienced has, as is inevitable, affected you both. How those changes present themselves will depend on what you were beforehand."

"More cryptic double-talk," Dean said.

"I don't oversimplify when someone is willing to listen." Lucifer was staring into Sam's eyes, and it felt like he was being separated from everything he used to keep people from realizing that he was more than a friendly face, anonymous but trustworthy. Lucifer was searching for him under the wrapping and fictions he told even himself when he didn't want to know the truth.

"He's everything," Lucifer said, not having to look at Dean to be clear.

There was no way to obfuscate, and Sam knew that avoidance would be insulting and make this a waste of time. "Yes."

"Brother, father, and partner through choice." It sounded like he was defining them, summing up years, blood spilled and experience neatly for his own reference.

"That's not everything," Sam said.

"Of course not, it wouldn't be so difficult if it was any less."

"And you know all of this, why?"

"Of all the bonds to have, brotherhood is not limited to mortals, Samuel," Lucifer said.

Sam remembered. "You have one too."

"Yes."

"But you're not really close to any of your siblings." Sam didn't know what the parameters were in relationships between angels, but in hierarchy where there were ranks of them, not everyone was going to be on good terms, and when a lot of them rebelled and were exiled, even fewer likely kept in touch.

"There are some who can appreciate free will."

Sam heard a reprimand. "I didn't ask Dean to make that deal for me."

"You would have done the same for him, it's what you're working up the courage to ask me. To expect him to be removed from his emotions is pointless."

"So is what he wants me to do."

"He knows better," Lucifer said.

"You don't know my brother," Sam said warningly.

"I understand, that doesn't require intimacy."

"Great, so you think you know what we're going through and have the answers, that doesn't mean that you can lord it over us," Dean said.

"If you looked, there might be a simpler way to resolve your problem," Lucifer said.

"Could you point it out to us?" Dean asked."

"The knowledge would have a greater weight if you discovered it yourselves."

"Some things work even if they're second-hand," Dean said. "And it's up to the person who's doing the work."

"With that, I concur," Lucifer said.

"Will this cost me anything?" Sam asked.

"This isn't a late night phone service, I'm not charging you for your silence, but if you don't work up the nerve to ask, the opportunity will be lost."

"Go on," Sam said.

"You have power," Lucifer said, eyes on Sam.

"So what?" Sam said.

"It's worth more than casual dismissal," Lucifer said.

"How do you know that?" Sam asked.

"Blood is one of the oldest currencies, and yours holds more than other mortals," Lucifer said.

"Meaning he could cash in on whatever the yellow eyed demon wanted to use?" Dean asked.

"Even thinned, the blood is pure enough that its source took notice."

"That's crap, I'm not connected to that monster," Sam said. He hadn't told Dean what the demon had shown him about the night their mother died, or that she had known the creature who'd killed her. With all the other shocks that one didn't seem to be worth sharing at the present.

"Whether you know or give credence to fact, it remains, and others will recognize it in you."

"What will they do; what would you do in their position?"

"I have no need to examine the failings of beings whose lives will never impact my own."

"Basically, they're beneath you," Dean said.

"To be plain, yes."

"When do you let yourself get involved?" Sam asked.

"When it's necessary."

"You really don't care much about anyone else unless they've got something you can use," Sam said. He was goading on purpose, even thought it was a step past foolhardy and into inexcusable stupidity.

Dean had been moving slowly around, pacing with Sam's words, but now his attention was bright and fixed on the third party. He stared hard, as if he thought by doing that he could anticipate his next move, when Sam predicted this one would go from inscrutable to supernova without warning or pause.

"For instance, there's this guy, Darren Rhodes, and he's been seeing stuff. It's driving him insane. We figure that a demon's responsible."

"Is this a complaint about courtesy? There are no stipulations that demons be well behaved," Lucifer said.

"But what you were saying, about rules, is what they're doing frowned on anywhere?" Sam asked.

"Certainly."

"And demons have interfered before, right?"

"Some have dared try and curb the natural order," Lucifer said, eyes on Dean. "You've benefited from that once before, though the memory has fragmented."

Dean shook his head, and Lucifer smiled.

"The deal you made was performed out of love."

Dean gathered himself and spoke up. "So was the one our dad made."

"And the way it was carried out did not hold to universal terms set down before man and earth."

"What does that mean?"

"The demon could never truly consume a soul that loved so deeply that it clawed up to the doors of Hell."

"That was really him," Sam said.

"John Winchester is not in Hell," Lucifer said. "He has moved on and cannot be reclaimed by any demon."

"Where does that leave Dean?" Sam asked. "You said that the deal our father made with the yellow-eyed demon, the one that brought Dean back to life wasn't done right."

"Demons boast of having a slew of talents that they cannot hope to touch," Lucifer said. "They are unable to restore vitality to spirits near death, but if they dare to, they may snare a being that can."

"They tapped a Reaper," Dean said.

"The Reaper," Lucifer said. "And she was extremely put out by the temerity of their summons."

"But she didn't kill Dean for what they did," Sam said.

"She doesn't kill," Lucifer said. "Death takes what is ready to move on from this life and guides it to the next place."

"And she got pissed off that demons have been sticking their claws where they shouldn't and came to you and asked you to whip them into line?" Dean asked.

"I could do that," Lucifer said. "But that would consume time and energy that I choose to expend in other pursuits."

"Why bother showing up, then? Are you bored enough that you've got to play games with humans?" Dean asked.

Sam shook his head in Dean's direction, but his brother didn't stand down.

"I am not here for them, that doesn't mean I happened to stop by," Lucifer said, giving them a look that could have been scorching, but was held back to forceful.

"Us, you wanted to talk to us," Sam said before Dean could say something that would encourage the devil to swat him with words that enough heat to melt worlds. "This is about Dean's deal, you know how we can break it."

"You'd figure it out, in the eleventh hour and the things you'd do to save Dean would be ruinously permanent," Lucifer said. "Your realization should precede the conflict you're preparing for."

"You want to give us an edge," Dean said. He didn't believe as much, Sam could tell, but he put the idea out in the open.

"In so many words, it would restore some order and likely disintegrate another kind."

"Just as long as you come out ahead," Dean said. "That's what you're worried about."

"I have no need to be concerned; this inconvenience will be resolved with my help or without it, the choice is one you have to make, and before my good will expires of waiting."

"What do we have to do?" Sam asked.

"Gain an advantage by the quickest route available." He looked around. "The man that's had his eyes opened is here," Lucifer said knowingly.

"Yeah, over by the fruit stands," Dean pointed.

"Will you take care of the demon that did this?" Sam asked. How that would help Dean, Sam couldn't tell, but Lucifer's methods had never been clear to Sam when he was reading texts that suggested the greatest demon lords in Hell all quailed at the slightest indication of displeasure. Lucifer didn't explain himself to give leniency, at times, mercy was not knowing what tiny misstep had been the cause of one's doom.

Sam and Dean followed Lucifer over to where Rhodes was waiting, alone, and visibly distraught. In fact, Rhodes was shaking so hard that he almost fell off the bench. Sam moved to steady him, but Lucifer waved for him to step back.

Lucifer motioned for Rhodes to lift his head and the man did, focusing on Lucifer with unsettling speed. "When are the ones who speak to you going to appear next?"

"I know they're coming when I get cold, then everything goes dark and I see the bad things," Rhodes said.

"Do you see their faces?" Lucifer asked.

"Like mud, they don't stay still. They let me see other things, people, and what they're doing to all of them-" Rhodes stopped speaking, he couldn't talk anymore and hunched over, hands covering his eyes.

"I see," Lucifer said, and he nodded, definitely getting more out of Rhodes' words than Sam or Dean were.

Dean had been following Lucifer's movements with his eyes, and now he had gotten what Lucifer was dancing around not saying.

"Say we get the better of these demons; we've done that already, killed a couple even," Dean said. "How's that going to change anything?"

"Demons don't believe a threat until it's been visited upon them," Lucifer said.

"The bigger the body count, the more they'll notice us," Dean said.

"Will they leave us alone?" Sam asked.

"It will give you ample time to learn what you need," Lucifer said.

"No, then," Sam said.

"Why did you come around, just to mess with us a little?" Dean asked, going for bluntness instead of diplomatic silence.

"If tormenting you had been my aim, an intermediary would have been effective."

"Yeah, because you've got a whole bunch of monsters working for you," Dean said.

"Only one," Lucifer said. He paused, mouth curving a little, and added, "She insisted."

"But you didn't send her to handle this," Sam said.

"In all likelihood, her methods would have been too bloody to be ignored, and I wanted to see you two."

"We're so popular it's like we should have an agent," Dean said.

Sam punched Dean's shoulder. "Like we need any more attention."

"Needed or not, you'll find more of it directed your way," Lucifer said. "For now, there are demons wearing human shapes who need to come forward if they want to claim their reward."

"Where?" Sam looked out at the people in the park, a couple playing with their small child, pushing him on the swings, teenagers showing off tricks on their skateboards, and an elderly woman arguing with her dog. None of them looked like they were paying any attention to what was going on with the three men clustered around a fourth, not attempting to enjoy the day.

"The woman and her dog," Lucifer said. "They prefer the simplest disguises, the ones that few look twice at. But I can tell, and ambition always smells like dying trees. I know it well, as I was surrounded by the stench for millennia while acting as steward of Hell."

"They've been trying to show Rhodes their dream world," Sam said. "He's been seeing those shifting faces and a skeleton."

"The three traitors, supposedly the faces of the devil, and none of them mine," Lucifer said. "And of course, they want to control death. The power to bring light and then to extinguish life."

"Does this happen a lot, demons trying to take over Hell?" Dean asked.

"It's an imperfect system," Lucifer said. "Being in charge does not denote control."

"That's why you left," Sam said. "You wanted to make your own decisions."

"Is that so hard to believe?"

"No, I've been there," Sam said. He couldn't have ever imagined having anything in common with the devil, but even he was a fallen angel, and Sam knew the feeling of tumbling out of favor.

Tellingly, Dean was quiet as he watched the two of them, and he nudged Sam; the woman and her dog were approaching, faces inhumanly malevolent.

"Here they come," Lucifer said.

"Probably had to get up the nerve," Dean said.

"Star of the Morning," the creature using the woman's body said. "We had not expected you to be present."

"You didn't think that I would let such hopes be dashed without addressing them, did you?" Lucifer asked.

The dog sat up on its hind legs. At another time it would have been funny to see a beagle doing tricks, but when it twisted and stretched like a piece of taffy being pulled apart, Sam and Dean stepped back. The thing that stood in the dog's place was skinny, the color of summertime grass and showed its teeth to the brothers, but bobbed its head more respectfully to Lucifer, who didn't return the gesture.

"Your kind came before humans knew how to rule themselves and when they finally learned of their strength and favor with the god of the covenant, you all fell back into a pit dug by winged thrones. Angels, who stood by to serve as messengers to humans, guides and protectors, they watched you fall and savored proof of their importance. But demons hold grudges more fiercely than gang lords, and as angels seemed more like puppets than authorities, you waited for something to happen."

"And it was glorious," the demon who'd been the old woman said. "You refused to be a slave any longer and you came to us in fire and fury, and you ruled us as we asked."

"Those who ask to be conquered cannot object to the way their sovereign governs," Lucifer said.

"We didn't," the dog said hurriedly, catching ominous nuances in Lucifer's words.

"Then why would you seek to place me side by side with Death as figurehead rulers of this dimension?" Lucifer asked. "I already know your minds, let me see if you have the capacity to understand your impertinence."

"This world should have been ours, but humans took it from us, wouldn't pay us the respect we deserved."

The other demon sneered. "They put their faith in many gods, and then one, but they can't even agree on how to worship properly. We taught them how to fear the dark, that was good for them, they needed to be afraid."

"You needed that from them," Lucifer said.

"It was the way of things, for ages," the first demon said.

"The way changed, as it must," Lucifer said.

"Not this. It can go back to how it was, how it should have always been."

"You can do that, Morningstar, you who brought light into the sky, you can take that away with a thought."

"Why would I?"

"To show them what they should fear. Death and darkness have been their enemies and they've never been able to fight them off."

The demons were staring at Lucifer as if they'd been waiting so long to see him that they could barely believe that he was standing in front of them. He was not similarly affected, looking at them with an air of distanced annoyance.

"Laws have been broken," Lucifer said.

"You, who have gone against God call us on rebellion?" the demon asked.

"I follow no rules but my own. You have no code and refuse to obey any power, in spite of the consequences," Lucifer said.

"What we do to mortals on Earth isn't the business of angels," the second demon said. "All they ever do is step in and get rid of what isn't clean enough for Heaven."

The second demon stepped forward, face spasming with anger. "Angels, you're all alike, even after fighting against Yahweh, you still bow to his way of doing things." It spat on the ground.

"Are you trying to make a statement or issue a challenge?" Lucifer asked.

"And what if we were?" the demon who'd come forward asked.

"Then I would respond," Lucifer said.

"You can't ignore our claim on this mortal. We've touched him, he's seen things that none of them should, otherwise they'd lose what reason their minds can hold," the demon said.

"I know," Lucifer said. "This man cannot hope to survive the absence of your touch."

"Absence? They're killing him," Sam said.

"Pushing him to madness, not death," Lucifer said. "He can be free of them, but there will be nothing left of Darren Rhodes."

"Can you make them go away?" Rhodes asked. He hadn't raised his head when the demons came up and he was still bent over, but his voice was stronger than it had been.

"They will never touch you again," Lucifer said.

"You can make that happen?"

"I can give them life in another form or erase them from this and all other universes," Lucifer said.

"Yes, please, I don't care what you have to do, just make them go away forever," Rhodes said.

"You say this with knowledge and understanding of what that will mean," Lucifer said, like it was a contract that awaited signature.

"Yes."

Lucifer didn't snap his fingers or use a wand produced out of his coat pocket, he simply put a hand on top of Rhodes' head and rested it there for a second. "There."

He stared past the man to the demons. "He no longer trespasses, however unwillingly on any of your territories."

The once canine demon stepped forward, snarling and readying more threats, but its companion reached out and sank claws into its shoulder. "Nothing remains?" it asked.

"No," Lucifer said.

"Then we must leave," the demon said, tugging on the other, trying to move what didn't want to shift yet. "The Morningstar has settled the matter," it said pleadingly.

"Hey, not so fast," Dean said. He smiled at the demons and Sam knew his brother wanted to get something out of this, get rid of a couple more demons, save people who didn't even know they were in danger.

"You needn't bother," Lucifer said.

"Why not?"

"Their connection to this mortal was the strongest way to transport them from Hell to Earth. Now that's been dissolved and I believe the administration would like to take up the issue of unauthorized travel with them." Lucifer gave the demons a speculative look. "On the last occasion when a gang of demons sought to involve me in their politics, I gifted their ringleader with a soul. It was something of a precedent," Lucifer said. "You can readily imagine how that went over in the realms of pain." As an aside to Sam and Dean he added," even should a demon have a soul, it cannot be taken from them, only given, and the ways that is encouraged are typically devastating to the physical form."

It was difficult to tell if demons could go pale, but their eyes jerked to Lucifer's expression. He didn't seem to be joking, and didn't sound particularly interested in what was going to happen to them. That, to Sam, was worse than him laughing about how bad off they were.

"Going quietly would be the way to a swift sentencing," Lucifer said, and the demons began to fade out, forms thinning until they had disappeared completely.

"They're gone," Sam said. The obvious needed to be explained; not seeing a demon hadn't meant much previously and he wasn't going to let that change even with the circumstances being unusual.

"Yes, back to Hell."

"They can't come back because you revoked their passports or something," Dean said.

"Heaven's sentries may rule Hell with undue pomp, but they know little else, and the punishment of the damned is undergoing a revolution in their hands. Any criminals will dealt with in ways both time-worn and fresh."

"That doesn't sound good for them," Sam said.

"No, it isn't." Lucifer glanced at Rhodes, who was slumped to one side and looking around as if he just had woken up.

"Hey, where am I?" Rhodes sat up and frowned at the three figures standing closer than strangers should. "Who are you guys, and what am I doing here?"

"The notion that you hit your head and will recover with uninterrupted rest would be the best way to preserve your sanity," Lucifer said.

"What are you talking about?" Rhodes said. He got to his feet, swaying and unsteady, but moving quickly away from them. "I don't know who you are, or what you've been doing, but I don't want anything to do with any of it."

"Glad to hear it," Lucifer said. "Off you go, forgetfulness will bring you comfort."

Rhodes stared at Sam, Dean, and Lucifer for a moment longer, and then he ran off in the other direction, toward the vendors packing up their wares and all the ordinary goings on of the end of another day.

They watched him leave, and Dean turned away first, looking at Lucifer intently. "What's going to happen to him?"

"The same thing that happens to any mortal that has a brush with powers that could change or damage him. The mind thinks itself over the incident and he goes on with his life."

"But won't people notice that he isn't seeing angels or Hell anymore?" Sam asked.

"What doesn't fit with his world view won't be remembered; any mention of those visions has been removed from the world," Lucifer said.

"What about us, we still remember," Sam said.

"Once you leave this place, you will only have your notes," Lucifer said.

"Hang on," Dean said.

"I think we should remember," Sam said.

"Everything," Dean said, stressing the word.

"Including me?" Lucifer asked.

"Yeah, especially you."

"You think it will help?"

"Maybe. Demons might mess with us more because they want to send a message and they think we're your errand boys," Dean said.

"I would not think your services were contrary to several of my plans," Lucifer said.

"Whoa, I don't like the way that sounds," Dean said.

Sam didn't either, but he wanted to know what Lucifer was implying. "I thought that lately, you didn't interfere in the business of Hell."

"Each realm has its caretakers, I have my own to tend," Lucifer said. "That does not mean I am unaware of what takes place in others."

"You're not known for making friends," Dean said. "Suppose we happen to be doing your work, on our own terms, are you going to step in and swat us for going off the path?"

"There are no guidelines for policing demons, other powers have not the interest or the time, and for them to care about a few human deaths would distract them from the larger picture."

"Bottom line?" Dean asked.

"Do what you what however you please with the demons who've crossed Hell's borders without permission," Lucifer said. "I would not care to prevent you, though others might." He smiled. "That is being seen to."

"Great," Sam said. "My brother is still in debt to one."

"If you can't see your own way to making someone read every version of the fine print then you will not outlast the possibilities of that fate," Lucifer said. "I've shown you where lines are drawn. Enforce those and you may discover more to use to your advantage."

"And you've talked us around to the beginning of this frigging conversation," Dean said. "Repeating everything still doesn't make it any clearer."

"You may hear the words and not seek anything more, or listen and decide for yourself," Lucifer said. "Even the most obedient of angels can do that if pressed to it."

"After all this time, you have each other," Lucifer said. "You have never needed to swear loyalties on books or swords, it is fact." He looked Dean in the eye. "Think of what demons are best at, and then you know what they fear."

"Okay, that's broad," Dean said.

"Narrow your perspective until you make the connection," Lucifer said. He smiled at some private reflection that they could tell not everyone involved found so amusing. "It's been done before." With that, he stepped back from Sam and Dean, put his hands in his pockets and walked away.

They watched him; neither having anything to call him back with that he'd care about, and Dean's fingers in Sam's arm were a warning not to ask for favors without knowing what they would mean later. Lucifer didn't vanish in smoke and a knowing laugh, he simply became indistinguishable from his surroundings, a flash of light that when it faded, left nothing in the spot where he'd been.

"Come on, Sam," Dean said. "Let's get someplace else."

As they drove into warmer weather, Dean had taken to sitting on the stoop outside their motel, jacket and long sleeves discarded inside, face turned up into the sunshine.

"You've got to get outside, Sam, it's warming up."

"I know, I can see you turning red from here." Sam teased; in the couple days his brother had been taking in some sun, Dean's freckles had darkened as he tanned.

Sam had been back at his reading, but this time with a different slant.

Dean peered around the door frame every little while and shook his head at how industriously Sam was bent over the notes he was making. "He was saying a lot of crap, Sam."

"I know, but some of it wasn't complete junk."

"The devil told us that so long as we have each other we can do anything. That's no big headline, and it's from every Hallmark movie I've ever turned of," Dean said.

"Even the ones Oprah recommends?" Sam asked. He ducked out of Dean's reach and thought about it. He'd heard all the neat avoidance of truthfulness, but he'd heard other things too. "Do you remember what's written about Lucifer and Michael?"

"Some," Dean said.

"They were the two angels with the most responsibility, the power and the will to bring life and give it functional form," Sam said. "Then they had a falling out, Michael followed the rules of God, and Lucifer chose to plummet from Heaven in order to preserve his freedom."

"He found out that things don't always turn out the way you think they should," Dean said. "Even if you leave, you still take what you grew up to be with you." He wasn't looking at Sam, but his tone was knowing.

"We're not angels," Dean said, not accepting the parallels had picked up on.

"No," Sam said. "But we can learn from them and I think we've got an endorsement."

"That's so wrong, we were trying to get away from doing business with demons," Dean said.

"We are, but I got the feeling that if we need a hand it's going to come at little cost to us." Sam recalled Lucifer's detachment at every turn expect when he talked about brothers. "He doesn't have to be a friend to be useful in a tight spot," Sam said.

"And thanks to him, you've got that crazed look back in your eyes," Dean said.

"I'm not crazed, I just think I've figured out a way to beat this thing," Sam said.

"Fantastic. While you're doing that, I'm going to kick back and get some rest." Dean let the shirt Sam threw at him hit his shoulder, then he rolled it up and shoved it under his head as a pillow.

Sam watched his brother relax, and folded back a page where the author discussed winning contests with demons in order to free one's soul. This was a new book, one of many, since now he wasn't only looking for ways to get free of this deal, but whether it had been done before, recently, and with safeguards that had worked. Lucifer had been telling them more than the facts, and mocking aside, Sam thought that he wanted them to prove something to someone in the course of this.

"It's like a challenge," Dean said, voice sleep-soft. "We get enough points we move on to the next round." For Dean it was that simple; do what they'd been trained to, what they were best at together, and they would work it out.

They'd attracted the notice of enough demons to make even more powerful beings consider them being outnumbered, and their meeting would have consequences, if not an outstanding tab later, but they had sun, time to search further, and no doubt of each other.

 

**Notes**

1\. FOAFtale News is an actual publication, begun in 1985. The article mentioned is not an authentic work from their archives and artistic license has been used where the author considered necessary. Some information gathered from 'Encyclopedia of Urban Legends' by Jan Harold Brunvand, which is both extensive and interesting in its scope and anecdotal research.

2\. The Vestibule is just past the Gate of Hell where, in Dante's Inferno, indecisive, people who couldn't commit themselves to a path in life, found that by not truly living, they could not have a true death.

3\. Barb and I talked about this first when I mentioned I had more ideas for the boys meeting Lucifer, and secondly, when she bunnied herself I pointed out that I was writing that, and thought some of the points she made were brilliant.

Her bunny goes as follows: 'So, Dean's sold his soul. It won't be easy to get him loose. The thing gnawing on my leg at the moment is the idea that Dean's soul already has a lien on it. Via another demon, or Lucifer, or the grigori, or even Sam. It was impossible to tell at the time he made the deal, and: he may not even be aware of it himself. So when it all comes due, it can become apparent that only part of Dean's soul is going and the demon was tricked; or the whole thing can be made to look like Dean's been dragged down to hell but he pops out from behind the door with half his soul gone and says "LOLZ psych!!1"

Worse comes to worse, Sam is going to take the Colt and go open that damn gate to hell again and go get Dean out anyway, duh! Even if all kinds of other trouble gets out too. It would just give them more to hunt. Sam would either tell Dean to be waiting by the door pretending to be on break from shoveling brimstone, or Sam will go in his cleverly sewn demon costume and use his geekery to pass himself off as hellspawn. He'll namedrop and everything.'

Obviously I didn't use this as an exact outline, but I used some of her thoughts, and realized twelve pages later that I was again, not writing a short crossover. Do I even know how to do that anymore?

4\. Lucifer is from Mike Carey's book of the same name, which is an offshoot from Neil Gaiman's Sandman, and both works are highly worth a read.

5\. The title is a poker term, meaning: 'to call an amount that represents a sum of bets or raises by more than one player.' Sam and Dean haven't tried everything, but other parties are learning that they soon won't be able to, especially with the interventions that are already taking place.


End file.
